


Killer In The Mirror

by Tsukareta



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Reminiscing, Some Spoilers, Survivor Guilt, Useless Lesbians, plot device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-08 17:43:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsukareta/pseuds/Tsukareta
Summary: It'll always come back to haunt them.They can't erase their sins no matter how much they try to be genuine people after the storm blows over. There was no calm before the storm anyway.Both parties share a strange, mixed sense of regret but its not enough to feel remorse.The only thing that matters now in the present, is that they have each other.





	Killer In The Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> I have to hurt smoogles I'm sorry.

Shirogane's body aches. It aches so so much that she almost finds it unbearable, feeling the phantom pain of her body being crushed,  _feeling her bones split and crack under the heavy pressure._

_Yet it's not enough to compare with what she made the others go through, all the lies, the highs, the fake smiles, the empty promises- it was all nigh, a freight-train that kept going in high speeds with no breaks into oblivion, further down the rabbit hole of madness._

_The sane, the insane, the weak, the sick- all sacrificed their lives in one way or another and unknowingly contributed to the performance rates making the season skyrocket._

A small part of her is disgusted with herself and pinning the blame on her ill-wished being entirely as a mocking laugh tumbles from her lips like poison.

She feels the urge to be be sick, to vomit all the truths she swallowed, keeping them at bay deep down with all the lies clogging her throat- they were cobwebs being spun in all the crevices of her throat.

Her throat burns painfully and pinpricks of tears gather at her eyes as if someone got a needle and was adamant on trying to poke both her eyes out.

Shirogane is not sure whether she wants to laugh or cry, to scream at all the nonsense and stupidity that was flooding in her mind. She had played her part and played it goddamn well for all she knew. She was certain her acting was top-notch but it seemed the audience could see through her plain act all along because that's all she was- the ' _plain jane.'_  

The plainest girl in the cast- so bland, so simple, so ordinary, so  _muted._

Everyone else stood out with their blazing outfits to match their personalities, all were woven, sown, created for  _them._ And all she got was a typical outfit, a stark contrast compared to the others. Was that what made her so obvious? To see her stand out for all the wrong reasons, giving the audience pointers on the mastermind and coming to the indisputable conclusion of truth. She had stuck out like a sore thumb.

All her hard work torn to shreds like confetti, a bad tasting birthday cake- the breakdown of a machine.

At times like this, the blue haired girl wonders if she was an actual robot other than Kiibo, when she stood beside Monokuma in the empty ruins and remains of the academy, she felt her legs buckle and shake uncontrollably like a machine trying to start itself up, reboot, try again. And when she felt her insides meld with her bones and the unbearable, queasy taste of blood, it tasted like metal, lead, iron- The materials a robot was made from.  

As their fallen corpses and remaining shadows of a carcass lay discarded, she stole their batteries, one by one, plucking them from their spines and using them for herself selfishly as they deactivated one by one, never to wake up again.

She hadn't even realized that small pear-shaped droplets came pirouetting down her ghostly white face. Shirogane snivels and sniffs, rubbing vigorously at her puffy eyes with her tattered sleeve. She grit her teeth when she saw her reflection in the mirror.

Her eyes impaled her reflection, looking down on it cruelly as if she found a piece of gum on her expensive shoes or someone had belittled her and then decided to beg for mercy. It was absolutely  _disgusting._ To look so feeble, so weak so  _helpless when she's the one at fault and it's all her **own**_ fault in the first place.

The blood that stained her hands will never leave nor vanish, all from different people. Their skin will always stay embedded underneath her fingernails and as she rots, it'll still be there, crystal clear as present day- that  _she_ killed them. Her thoughts were contagious, contaminating and she could still hear their vengeful voices ringing through her ears.

Thumping footsteps of heeled boots slamming the peeling tiles snapped her out of her demeaning stupor and grovelling. It seemed her brooding time was over for she had an intruder...or maybe a visitor instead. It was all a flip of a dime, either heads or tails and on which side it lands- that's what she receives as they come gliding through the door.

 Withered wings and broken bones crumble and flutter behind the visitor, their hair spirals down near their ankles, a deep dark charred brown shines. That's the first thing she manages to note before her vision is then obscured by two blazing red eyes.

They stole her attention and uneasy focus entirely as a shaky grimace cracks almost instinctively across her face and her lips twitch violently, almost into a scornful leer but is able to contain herself- keeping her unscrupulous impulses at bay just in time.

Red eyes cut into hers still, unchanging and now she wishes that she went blind, to see darkness than this- Shirogane found it agonizing. They gleamed brightly with an unreadable glint but Shirogane knew better, she knew ill-wished promises and intentions were lurking deep down in those fiery irises. 

She feels her mouth go unmistakably dry and struggles to salivate or swallow the building lump she feels rising in her throat, clawing its way up- on one hand she'd like to think it's her heart that was propelled upward as a winning point like that one carnival game where one slams the hammer down the massive button with all their strength and see how much 'power' they hold.

It was suffocating, feeling her chest close up like a flower reverting back to a small bud that's not due in bloom. Or maybe it was her warped heart talking that carried many lacerations and battle wounds, signalling Shirogane of her doltish feelings.

Shirogane blinks owlishly a few times and the figure that stood in front of her does not say a word, they only stare at her silently, waiting for Shirogane to speak and when she refuses they exhale with a followup of expressing an irritated sigh.

"I heard you crying from down the hall." Their voice flitters through the room, bouncing off the walls and into the center of Shirogane's face almost like a bullet that was sent soaring from the pull of a trigger.

Shirogane bit her tongue in embarrassment and vexation, for someone to have heard her conspicuous, desperate cries and sobs made her want to retch. For them to provoke her on her own accord was a certain twist of events. A drastic turn that she had not been expecting whatsoever, instead, she'd hoped to drown in a puddle of shame, her sorrows as they consume her inside out, leaving her nothing but an amalgamation of despicability. It would have sweetened the pills more once the aftershocks would neutralize.  

Unfortunately for her, fate did not seem to be in her favour nor side considering  _they_ were there.

After receiving no reply they glowered at Shirogane before frowning.

"Are you still blaming yourself?" The words carelessly leave their mouth and they shift their eyes to the wall.

Shirogane's breath hitches and her small neck almost snaps as she desperately tries to grasp the emotion sealed in their eyes but nothing was present.

Her eyes dart to the wall behind them and back to their face minimally in alternating seconds. No reaction.

Shirogane finds it difficult to get her jaw working, flinching when she stutters- it sounded exactly as it did in the game and her face is as white as a sheet when her thoughts boil down to the thought that they are going to strangle her.

"Harukawa," Shirogane shakily breathes out, feeling her heart palpitate within her chest. "Do you h-hate me?" It was a foolish question to ask, she must hate her for all the things she'd done- she had planned, organized and initiated everything. 

"Tsumugi. Stop asking me this question." Harukawa barks with full bite, annoyance dotting her tone before it morphs into the type of voice you'd use to coo at a small animal. And at the same time, the brunette's heart pangs with guilt.

"I do not hate you  _that_ much. I still believe in the time we spent together in the killing game."

Shirogane's cheeks are dusted with a light shade of pink at the use of her first name and is darkened with Harukawa's thereafter, sugary batch of words. But she didn't buy it, especially the last question. How can you like someone who killed everyone off, especially the people you cared about?

Yet this reminds Shirogane that they were both wolf among the sheep, gnawing at the wool over their eyes. They both weren't innocent but guilty. Her fingertips waltz through her tresses in frustration. The pigments of rosy colour leave her face as she licks her lips before replying.

"How do I know you're not lying to me? Aren't you here to kill me?" She snaps with more spiteful wishes than necessary, adjusts her glasses and tucks a thin lock of hair behind the shell of her ear.

Harukawa deadpans, lips curling further into a longer, meager frown. If anything, Shirogane almost thought Harukawa's face would split horizontally, exposing the rows of pearly white teeth she keeps her breath hostage behind and her poisoned blood would drip so prettily down onto the tiles, slipping into the cracks and into the floorboards to make history.

Harukawa slithers closer with practiced expertise, her boots emitting nothing but soft squeaks till she's directly in front of Shirogane, if not, a few meters apart at best.

Their eyes mingle with slow, dainty blinks and Shirogane is almost entranced by how Harukawa's eyelashes curl so elegantly that made her heart swell significantly but deflated just as quickly.

Harukawa stalks forward like a cat ready to pounce on prey and Shirogane squeezes her eyes shut, expecting the worst but instead, she feels Harukawa's nose press up against the side of her own, their faces centimeters apart.

Shirogane's heart stops, stutters and skips beats.

"Tsumugi..." Harukawa softly whispers, looking at the cosplayer dead in the eye. "If I really hated you, would I do this?"

Said cosplayer was about to open her mouth to retaliate with another malignant remark but she realized she could not, for the assassin had grabbed her collar tightly and slammed her silky lips onto hers.

It was breathtaking as their lips moved back and forth- it was hopelessly romantic, no tongue, no teeth despite being aggressive.

Harukawa is the first one to pull away with a flushed face and shoves Shirogane lightly before exiting the room while Shirogane's fingers trail up to her mouth, feeling the lingering taste of maple fudge glossed upon her unworthy lips.

Her face was as red as a rose in bloom and without its prickly thorns.

It was a childish thing- a caricature of intimacy followed by the classic move of pushing the person away.

Shirogane could not of imagined it any other way- it was better than rotting in hell but at the same time, it would not be so bad since Harukawa would be holding her hand as they entered the depths of hell.

They have each other now, and that is all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll clear some things up here just to make it more easier to understand:
> 
> So basically, what this work will translate to (in better words) is that Shirogane undoubtedly feels pure guilt after her reign of the killing game is done- at first she was overjoyed and happy to have killed them all off and won (alongside Harukawa, who we can just interpret that she killed Kokichi and got away with it thus Tsumugi surviving as well) but as time goes on she remembers each encounter and meeting with the deceased- they were all happy, carefree until motives were stacked along. So she breaks down and Harukawa walks in on her due to hearing her pleas blah blah it ends up being a somewhat decent ending.  
> It's not a canon-complaint but I wanted to write this as Shirogane reflecting on her supposed crime(s).
> 
> Also, the robot imagery is metaphorical- not literally, by batteries I mean their lives and the idealization of being a robot such as when your body can uncontrollably have tremors- in your hands and legs for example.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Criticism is welcome- only on moderation for me to see comments easier because my preferences are broken.


End file.
